


Mulling It Over

by fredbassett



Series: Stephen/Ryan series [133]
Category: Primeval
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29714445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredbassett/pseuds/fredbassett
Summary: Office Christmas parties, the tenth level of Hell.
Relationships: James Lester/Jon Lyle, Stephen Hart/Tom Ryan
Series: Stephen/Ryan series [133]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/14456
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Mulling It Over

Lester had been dubious about hosting a Christmas party in the ARC but, as Lorraine had pointed out, they risked fewer breaches of the Official Secrets Act by keeping their colleagues away from unsuspecting members of the public when alcohol was involved.

Ryan had agreed. So had Claudia. 

The rest of the staff didn’t really mind as long as the food and drink were free – and plentiful. The special forces barbeque maxim of ‘never knowingly under-catered’ was considered paramount.

Lester took the line of least resistance and asked Jim Dawson from the Black Swan to do the catering and provide the alcohol. He knew most people’s taste in food and drink and above all, he was discreet.

The cavernous atrium was now playing host to a large, somewhat chaotically decorated Christmas tree (thanks to Connor), a life-sized inflatable Santa hanging from the ceiling (Lyle’s contribution), enough food and drink to satisfy a Napoleonic army for a week (carefully buried in the budget under ‘sundries’) and enough sprigs of mistletoe to double as Burnham Wood in a production of Macbeth.

Lester leaned on the rail outside his office, sipping a mug of remarkably tasty, mulled wine that he strongly suspected was made up of equal parts of red wine, orange juice and brandy.

A pair of strong arms slid around his waist and Lyle murmured in his ear, “Are you going to let me snog you under the mistletoe, cherub?”

“Ask me when I’ve finished the Christmas equivalent of a liquid blow to the head with a large club and the answer will probably be yes.”

Lyle sniffed the contents of the mug then promptly took a large swig. “So that’s what Finn was doing with a bottle of brandy. Nice.”

“Oi, get your thieving mitts off my mulled wine.” Lester leaned back against his lover, feeling as relaxed as he was ever likely to be in the midst of an office party, otherwise known as the tenth level of hell that Dante hadn’t dared describe for fear of traumatising his audience.

As expected, Lyle ignored him. “Fortunate this place has got an executive suite. This stuff’d stop a charging allosaur.”

“It’ll play havoc with Lorraine’s risk assessments.”

Lyle’s laugh ghosted over the back of Lester’s neck, holding a promise of things to come. “I doubt it. She’s going out with Blade, remember. She knows all about risk assessments.”

Lester dug Lyle in the ribs with his elbow. “Be a nice boyfriend and fetch an array of former Detective Sergeant Dawson’s finest pig products and another large mug of this remarkably acceptable beverage.”

“And then I get to snog you senseless on the sofa in your office?”

“I could be convinced of the merits of that plan …”

**** 

Stephen snagged a couple of pigs in blankets off Ryan’s plate. “This isn’t too terrible.”

“Just go easy on the mulled wine. Finn decided it needed a bit of an extra kick.”

Stephen grinned. “I know. I saw him. I think he also added some of Norman’s homebrewed elderberry port.”

“Fucking hell, that stuff’s got a kick like a T. rex on steroids.”

“Why do you think Lester’s looking mellow enough to let Lyle snog him on the sofa?”

“I just thought he’s a randy sod when he thinks no one’s looking.”

“It’s the ARC Christmas party, everyone’s looking. Why do you think he banned photos?”

“Good point.”

Stephen leaned against Ryan’s shoulder and continued to eat from the same plate while his lover snagged mouthfuls of the hot, spicy wine from their shared mug. They’d had a hard month, with multiple anomaly shouts, pulling double shifts as Stringer’s team had been pulled off the project at two days’ notice for an op somewhere very hush hush that even Ryan wasn’t able to talk about. Luckily for the rest of them, anomaly activity had abruptly calmed down as suddenly as it had flared up and they were all hoping for a quiet Christmas.

He and Ryan were covering the Christmas shift to give Lester and Lyle some down time and then they had a week off over new year that they were intending to spend at the cottage in Suffolk that Ryan had inherited from his grandmother. Stephen was looking forward to doing nothing more strenuous than shagging and chopping wood.

He nuzzled Ryan’s ear, running his tongue lightly around the lobe and was rewarded with a slight intake of breath.

“Do that again,” Ryan said quietly. “It’s just gone straight to my cock.”

Stephen laughed. “Christ on a bike, I wonder if Norman’s been pepping up his homebrew with Viagra?”

“You lick my ear, I get hard. That’s not unusual.”

“It is when we’re surrounded by most of our colleagues.”

Ryan shrugged. “Fuck it, it’s the Christmas party. Half the science staff are copping off with each other and my lot are busily getting pissed. No one’s taking any notice of the fact that I’ve got a hard on.”

Stephen ran his hand speculatively up Ryan’s thigh and skimmed the front of his jeans. “Would it be too much of a cliché to cop off in a cupboard?”

“Yes, it bloody well would. Especially when we’ve got a perfectly good bedroom waiting for us.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I’m too old for snogging in cupboards and even the mulled wine isn’t strong enough for that to seem like a good idea.”

An hour later, the pair of them stumbled into one of the walk-in stationary cupboards, summarily ejecting a squiffy botanist and Mary from accounts.

“What was that about being too old for snogging in cupboards?” Stephen said, kissing his way up Ryan’s neck before capturing his lover’s mouth in a messy, uncoordinated kiss that tasted of mulled wine, mince pies and desire.

“I’ve changed my mind, Hart, you’re never too old for snogging in cupboards.”

A loud rap on the door told them someone else had just had the same idea.

“Find your own cupboard!” Ryan yelled.

And it would have taken a very brave – or very stupid - person to have argued with that order.


End file.
